Are you mine?
by Weskette
Summary: The story of Chris' proposal to Jill. She always did like that wine he bought.


**I wrote this because I got ahold of a rumor that claims Jill and Chris are married in RE6. Fuck. Yes.**

* * *

_**Are you mine?**_

_"Are you mine? Are you mine? 'Cause I stay here all the time, watchin' telly, drinkin' wine. Who'd have known? Who'd have known when you flash up on my phone, I no longer feel alone." - Who'd have known, Lily Allen_

Jill slipped into the house, very quietly shutting the door. She slipped off her shoes and her feet made no sound as she tiptoed to the living room. Chris was napping on the couch, his feet up, arms behind his head. She smirked as she looked down at him. Then an idea came. She sat on him. "Gah, what the-" His eyes opened and he realized who was seated on his stomach. "Oh. Hi, Jill."

She smiled. "Hey." She shifted so she was lying on her stomach on him, head resting on his chest. "What are we watching tonight?" she asked. He shrugged, placing a hand on her back.

"What do you wanna watch?"

"Got any actiony, romantic comedies?" She pushed up so she was supported by her forearms which rested on his chest.

"Dunno. I've got wine though. The stuff you like too."

"Ooooh, Superstition?"

"Yeah."

"You're the best." She leaned foreward and kissed him, a quick thanks. He replied as he usually did, with a sort of reserved passion that promised more for later, which there always was. And he never dissapointed. "Any occasion?"

"Not really," he smiled.

"Liar," she claimed. "Tell me."

"No!" he refused, both hands on her hips now.

She sat up, straddling his lap. "Tell me, Chris. Or you won't end up happy tonight." He gulped as she snaked her fingers under his shirt, and then withdrawing them, going to his belt buckle.

"N, now, that's not gonna work..." he mumbled, even though he felt like she had him wrapped around her little finger.

She snorted. "Yeah right." She pressed gentley on a very sensative spot of his.

He swore. "God dammit, Jill... Tease."

"Tell me." "Not yet!" She pressed harder, feeling his reaction.

"Fuck..." he muttered, trying to control himself. "Jill, I'll tell you before... Ten o'clock. How's that?"

She retracted her hand and nodded. "Fine." She kissed him again. "But if it's even a minute after ten, you won't be getting any for the next week or more."

"What!" he protested. "A week?"

She nodded. "It's six now. You've got four hours. Tell me before then and we'll have some fun tonight. Most likely." He nodded and did his best to sit up with her still straddling him.

"Anyway, what movie?"

"Why don't we just watch TV? Anything without zombies. Maybe a crime show?"

He shrugged. "If you want."

She grabbed the remote, curled up against him, and started flipping through channels. Her head was against his chest, and his hand was in her blonde-brown locks. He was more interested in her face than what was on the TV. After Africa, he didn't take anything for granted. That's why they were in a real relationship now, not the petty, behind-everyone's-backs relationship they had before. No. No more hiding. So they were openly together. She was planning on moving in within the month. Almost everything of hers was already out of her apartment and in his house. She hadn't spent a night in her apartment for at least two weeks. And she didn't plan to, either.

"Wanna watch Castle? This is a good episode."

"Sure," he answered.

* * *

After three and a half episodes of Castle, all of which were an hour long, Chris realized the time. Nine thirty. And it took her at least a half an hour to drink a glass of wine. He slipped her off his lap. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Pour us some wine."

She smiled. "Great."

He disappeared into the kitchen, spotting the wine bottle on the counter. His hands shook as he took two wine glasses from the cabinet. He was nervous. One glass slipped and crashed into the ground, breaking with a great sound.

"You okay in there?" she called.

"Fine! Just dropped a glass!" he called back.

"You better not have wasted any wine! I'll make you slurp it off the ground, glass splinters and all!"

"Love you too, Jill!" he replied, chuckling. He took a second glass from the cupboard and opened the wine with a pop. He slipped a small, black, velvet lined box from his pocket. Opening it, he smiled. One medium sized diamond, and two smaller saphires on each side of it. He took her glass and placed the ring on the bottom of it. He quickly poured the wine over it, happy to notice that it wasn't at all noticable.

"Chris! Hurry up!" He poured his own glass and left the kitchen.

"Here you go, babe."

She took it greatfully, sipping at it. "It's almost ten," she noted. He shrugged.

"I'll tell you after you finish your wine."

"And if I purposely drink slowly?"

"Then I must be worse in bed than I thought."

"Well..."

"Now that's just cold, Jill." She rolled her eyes.

"You're plenty good, Chris. Don't you worry." She kissed him for good measure.

Chris sat nervously as she sipped at her wine. It seemed eternally long, the wait for her to finish. He felt tortured. It was like she knew what was going to happen and she was purposely torturing him. When she only had just enough to cover the ring, she asked, "So, will you tell me now?"

"I told you. Finish your drink and I will."

She poured the last of the drink into her mouth and froze. Slowly, she reached up and picked the ring up off her tongue. "Chris? What... What's this?" She held the ring up for him to see, her eyes widened in surprise.

He put his hands over hers and moved to kneeling infront of her. "Jill? Will you marry me?"

Suddenly, she was hugging him. "Yes, yes, yes!"

He realized she was crying. He moved his hands to the sides of her face, wiping the tears away. "You okay?" he asked, quiet.

"My God, Chris! You just asked me to marry you! Everything is fucking amazing!" He placed his hand under her chin and pulled her into a kiss. It quickly turned passionate, his lips moving down to her neck, unbottoning her shirt. She moaned, letting him have his way, becoming pinned beneath him.

The clock ticked to ten fifteen and he noticed, pulling away long enough to say, "I didn't make the time limit..."

She rolled her eyes, smirked and said, "Oh, just take off your shirt already."

He grinned, pulling off his shirt to expose his smooth expanse of muscle. His mouth returned to the nape of her neck. "So, I'm off the hook?" he murmured.

She huffed and flipped him over to straddle him. "You talk too much." She claimed his lips with her own and her hands went for his belt buckle.


End file.
